Beneath the Edge
by EdmundB05
Summary: A working title of my direct continuation from The Immortals, the newly released book in the series, which, although it is meant to be the final one I felt left so many questions unanswered! Mild spoilers for those who have yet to read The Immortals.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Paul Stewart and Chris Riddell are the owners of the Edge, including characters, places, and other related material. Any new characters introduced are my own invention.

Chapter One

'_Promise you'll come back to me…'_

'_I promise.'_

The memory of his final words to Eudoxia Prade, his friend and companion through such a long and arduous journey, echoed around Nate Quarter's head as he followed the Professor, step by gradual step, down the glittering rock face of the Edge cliff. He looked up, just once, as he descended, and thought he saw, just for an instant, the sun gleaming of a golden head on the very tip of the Edge.

'Eudoxia,' he murmured softly to himself. He knew that she could not understand why he had to go – on a journey so many others had attempted – and failed – and that he was causing her great suffering by his determination. But the words of Quintinius Verginix, who had appeared so briefly in the mosaic quadrangle of Sanctaphrax, had taken on a special significance when he had come down from the reborn rock.

'The story of _your_ life, Nate Quarter, is just beginning.'

Nate knew that life back in Great Glade, or in Sanctaphrax, was not for him – at least not yet. He shared with the Professor the ardent desire for discovery that was present in every member of the Society of Descenders, and he had to follow it. A life half lived would not be a life at all: Nate knew that he had to make this journey; he had to find out what was beneath the Edge, to succeed where so many had failed. Perhaps, after his return, he would have a life up in the sunlight. Perhaps even with Eudoxia.

'Nate! What are you waiting for?' came a cry several feet below him. Nate came to, looking around wildly, and realised that in his reverie he had stopped climbing. He was clinging, crab-like, to the face of the cliff, buffeted by the howling winds, and already struggling to see in the dimness that would all too soon turn into the impenetrable darkness that Ifflix had described to the Professor before his death. His companion was now staring up at him in confusion, and Nate realised that he could not afford to keep thinking about what he had left behind. The only way was down…down into the depths, to find out what was beneath the great fluted decline.

'I'm sorry,' he said, 'I was just thinking whether this was the right thing to be doing, whether we should be risking this after all the horrors that your brother described.'

'Of course we should,' the Professor shouted up from below, struggling to make himself heard above the howl of the wind. 'Can't you feel it, Nate? The desire to climb down, to find out just what is beneath this jutting rock of ours. It burns within me, and I can do nothing but answer it. If anything, Ifflix' description of what is down there only makes me more determined.'

Hearing this, Nate felt his brief weakening of resolve gradually disappear. Feeling with his foot for a safe footing, he resumed the climb down, clinging onto the rope as hard as he could. As much as he desired to know what lay below the Edge, he had no desire to find out at speed.

The Professor too resumed his descent, focussing on the rhythm of a descender – first place the foot, then the hand, the foot, the hand… Down and down the two tiny figures went, leaving behind the light and warmth of the sunlit regions, down into the dark abyss, with the phantasms and creatures that were the stuff of nightmares…down, where every expedition before them had failed. But now, they had new hope – they knew what to expect, they had the line left by Ifflix, and, perhaps most importantly of all, they knew that up above them, the Edge was on the cusp of an entirely new part of its history. Thus, perhaps their descent was part of this rebirth – for centuries, sky pirates, the leaguesmen of Old Undertown, the librarian knights, and now the phraxships of the Third Age of Flight had explored the skies above the Edge. Now, with the dawning of this new age, it was finally time to discover what lay below the Edge.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Eudoxia Prade turned away from the Edge, gripping the box of memories Nate had given her to her chest, as fiercely as if she would never, ever let go. As she walked back along the pavement of the Stone Gardens, already showing the small bumps that would one day become fully-fledged rocks, she allowed the tears to flow. She knew that when she returned, she had to present a strong face – for all the joy and ambition that everyone had, this new era for all of them would not be easy, and a faint heart would not succeed.

By the time she reached the overgrown square of Old Undertown, with the Anchor Chain of Sanctaphrax finally back in the position it had deserted so many years ago, the tears had stopped. Although still appearing pale and wan, Eudoxia was determined to start her life anew, helping the fettle-leggers and any others who should come to build a new life in Sanctaphrax, which itself had been reborn.

A small figure came rushing over to her upon her arrival, a broad smile wreathing his face, with its odd, shining blue eyes.

'Mistress Eudoxia! You have returned. Slip is so happy to see you; he feared that you might have gone with the Professor and friend Nate. Slip would hate to see you leave too, Mistress Eudoxia. For who would help Slip to look after all these people?'

As he spoke, the little grey goblin spread his arms wide, indicating the crowed of fettle-leggers, who had disembarked from the _Archemax_ after their narrow escape from the gloamglozers who had taken over Sanctaphrax. They were filling the old square at the centre of Old Undertown, looking up in awe at the newly tethered rock, which was no longer the city of gleaming spires. For while the rock had been healed, with the destruction of the last gloamglozer, the buildings upon it had not.

'No, Slip,' Eudoxia said, smiling gently at him. 'I won't be leaving you – and Nate will be back some day, too. And I promise you, when he returns, he won't be going off on any more hare-brained adventures: he'll be staying here with us!'

'Ah, Mistress Eudoxia, Slip would like that! Friend Nate was with Slip from the very beginning, back when Slip was just a more old scuttler in the phraxmines, in his twelfth year of service…'

'I know, Slip, I know,' said Eudoxia gently, seeing that, for all that Slip had improved from the pathetic little creature he had been when Nate first escaped with him, the experiences in the phraxmines were still near to the surface. 'He has promised me he will return, and he will keep his promise, I am sure. Now, who is in charge of the fettle-leggers? We need to start organising parties for food and shelter…'

Slip did not know, and in the milling crowd of Deepwooders, there seemed to be little obvious hierarchy – they were all so glad to be alive that the relieved hugging and celebrations were still going on all around her. 'There must be a leader here somewhere,' thought Eudoxia to herself, plunging into the crowd. Before long, she came across a face she recognised – Wyver, the female the _Archemax _had picked up long before the terrible truth about Sanctaphrax was known. Wyver recognised her immediately, and threw her arms around her delightedly.

'Eudoxia! Earth and Sky be praised, you're safe! But where are your friends? I see Slip over there, but where are Nate Quarter and the Professor? I have to thank them for their part in our salvation.'

Eudoxia smiled tightly. 'They've taken another route. Nate and the Professor have followed their spirits, and even as we speak are descending the side of the Edge.' Her voice wobbled slightly as she spoke, but her eyes remained dry. Eudoxia Prade was not the sort of person who broke down in public.

Wyver's eyes widened, and she hugged her young'un to her instinctively.

'Down the Edge? But…but why? After everything they have been through, they could have stayed here with us and built a paradise. Or they could have gone with your father and Captain Cirrus, or…'

'Believe me, Wyver, I asked Nate all this myself. But he simply said he had to do it – 'because it's there' – and if I know anything about Nate, it is that he will not be content to live his life wondering what he would have seen and discovered down there. He believes he is following his destiny, and I also believe it to be so,' Eudoxia replied, smiling ruefully. 'But Slip and I are staying with you. Sanctaphrax may be destroyed, but stone-sickness has been cured! The floating rock is whole, and on it we can build a new Sanctaphrax, a better Sanctaphrax! It will be a city where everyone and anyone can come to live, and live in peace. But now, I must find your village elder – we need to organise some sort of foraging party or we will all go hungry!'

Wyver looked hard at Eudoxia, and suddenly enveloped her in a bear-like hug. Eudoxia, surprised at first, quickly returned the gesture, taking comfort in the warmth of the soft leather jerkin Wyver was wearing.

'He will come back to you,' Wyver whispered. 'He will come back.' Drawing away from Eudoxia, she patted her once on the shoulder and took hold of Tentermist's hand once more. 'Our village elder is Mother Sprigbranch. She's just over there.'

Wyver was pointing at a diminutive old woman, who was dressed exactly as the rest of the fettle-leggers were, except for a threadbare shawl, which Eudoxia saw was embroidered with a copperwood tree on the back – presumably a symbol of her office.

Introductions were quickly effected, and the wrinkled old matriarch proved to be an excellent organiser. The young male fettle-leggers were dispatched into the verdant Mire with their hunting spears, which they had sensibly carried with them on the arduous trek from the Northern Reaches, to hunt for supper. The women and their young'uns were sent out into the overgrown ruins of Old Undertown to collect the wood that littered the old city, both for a fire and for shelter that night. Before long, they started to return, the men bringing back the odd red and blue-feathered birds that the _Archemax_ had disturbed the day before, and the women coming back with veritable piles of timber.

All through the day, Slip stayed close to Eudoxia, not sure enough of himself to introduce himself to the fettle-leggers. Finally, as they settled down for the night, with the _Archemax_ still hanging comfortingly over them, he began to talk to a young fettle-legger sitting near him. Eudoxia smiled as she saw him talking earnestly to this young man. It was good that Slip should find another friend, she thought, after 'friend Nate' had decided to go down the side of the Edge.

As she lay down herself, wrapping herself with a soft tilder rug, which Wyver had lent to her, she saw the _Archemax_'srope ladder drop to the floor. Surprised, and feeling slightly guilty – for she had forgotten all about her father and those aboard the phraxship – she looked up, to see her father climbing swiftly down.

Upon reaching the ground, he turned and enveloped her in a hug, which she reciprocated warmly, still marvelling at how he was so transformed from the fading, phrax-ridden wreck he had been only weeks before.

'Eudoxia,' he said softly, not wishing to wake the young'uns who had already drifted off into slumber. 'The _Archemax_ must leave now – we have done all we can here, and so much is to be done back in Great Glade. We must bid you farewell.'

Eudoxia nodded, the tears that had been so close to the surface all that day springing once more to the surface.

'I understand, father. As much as we want a new age of freedom and unity, it can't happen without you leaving us. We will be fine here – but we are counting on you to spread the word back in Great Glade!'

Galston Prade smiled warmly and patted her on the shoulder.

'Of course we will. You'll be seeing the _Archemax_ regularly, I expect. Old Squall is half tempted to stay here, but together with Weelum, he will be a key part of our new phraxship works. Now, we must leave. Stay strong for Nate and the Professor – make sure they have a true paradise to return to!'

With these words, Galston Prade sprung back up the ladder with an agility that he would have envied for years, and, moments later, Eudoxia heard the roar of the phraxship start up, as it turned and headed off back to the Deepwoods. She waved furiously at the figures who were lining the stern, as they sailed off into the night.

Now, she thought to herself, the real work begins.


	3. Chapter 3

This is lengthy! Apologies, but exposition of the story previous to this is needed.

Chapter Three

The High Council of Great Glade was in session, almost a month later. Around the great oval table in the central hall of the Great Glade Academy, sixteen solemn figures sat, looking steadily at the door, from which soon Galston Prade would be emerging.

Quove Lentis, the High Professor of Flight, looked at his pocket-watch (such marvellous inventions, and his was one of the finest) and tutted to himself. Prade should have been there five minutes ago. The High Council was paying him a great honour by allowing him to address them with his so-called urgent news – they only sat, barring emergencies, once a month and audiences were seldom allowed even then, for the running of the city took up almost all the time they could afford.

Nevertheless, the High Professor admitted to himself, his curiosity had been piqued by the urgent request for an audience from Galston Prade, whom everyone had previously thought was on his last legs until his disappearance, only for him to return months later, seemingly healed of the deadly phraxcough, and, what's more, with the stolen _Archemax_. What could be so urgent as to require an audience with the High Council?

Looking over to his left briefly, he saw the Professor of Light, Helius Lodd, staring fixedly at the ceiling, seemingly lost in a daydream. An old buffoon, and hardly deserving of a position on such an august body, but his position demanded it. But more importantly, a staunch friend and ally of Prade, and a man who would support him through thick and thin. On his right sat the Professor of Darkness. Now there, thought Quove Lentis approvingly, was a man who was a proper example to the Great Gladers. He had no time for adventures and misadventures, nor would he put up with any nonsense from Prade.

Lost in his reverie, he almost didn't hear the great ironwood doors, engraved with a detailed carving of the Battle of the Lufwood Mount, swing open to admit Galston Prade, accompanied by Cirrus Gladehawk, the treacherous cur who had stolen the _Archemax_ so soon after he had returned from his ill-fated expedition. Prade and Gladehawk strode boldly down the narrow gap between the two ends of the oval table, and into the circular hole in the middle, where, as tradition demanded, and supplicants were to sit.

'Galston Torremix Prade, and Cirrus Altius Gladehawk, you are hereby admitted to the High Council here in session assembled,' intoned the High Master of Lake Landing Academy, Martilius Vendrix. 'State your reason for your request of an audience before this Council.'

'We are come hither bearing tidings of great and tumultuous happenings in the region of the Edge once known as Undertown, which is now ruined,' replied Prade, calmly. For all that he disliked the moneyed upstart, the High Professor of Flight could not help grudgingly approving of his adherence to the archaic speech favoured by the High Council.

'You may speak,' replied Vendrix.

'High Master and Council members, Captain Gladehawk and I have recently returned from a voyage aboard the _Archemax_, in search of Ifflix Hentadile's expedition down the Edge cliff. It is as regards our discoveries upon this voyage that I with to speak.'

He paused, looking round at the assembled Council Members – High Professors, Professors, and representatives from various professions within Great Glade – before continuing.

'Sanctaphrax has returned!'

Silence met his exclamation, followed by an cacophony of shouting from the various council members.

'What do you mean, Sanctaphrax has returned?'

'Preposterous!'

'The rock flew off into Open Sky! Are you unhinged, Sir?'

'Explain yourself!'

Martilius Vendrix banged his gavel loudly upon the burnished wood of the table, eventually restoring silence to the chamber. All were looking at Prade expectantly.

'Continue, Master Prade.'

'What I say is not preposterous, if I may be so bold as to contradict the High Professor of Sky Studies. Sanctaphrax has indeed returned, but at a terrible cost, and bringing with it the explanation for the depopulation of various villages and towns within the Deepwoods. What I say may test your belief, but I swear by Earth and Sky that every single word that I speak is true.

'Upon our arrival in the ruins of Old Undertown, we came across a group of fettle-leggers from the Deepwoods. They had been abandoned by a guide of theirs who had been leading them to a 'city of spires' where they could all live in equality. As the mist around us cleared, it revealed an amazing sight: the Sanctaphrax rock, hovering above the Stone Gardens.'

'How can this be so?' burst out the High Professor of Flight, angrily. 'Even if this story were true, stone sickness would have corrupted the rock and it would no longer float – if indeed it had survived, as soon as it returned near to the Edge, it would have crumbled into dust.' Quove Lentis sat back, content that he had demolished this cock-and-bull story – no doubt another appeal for money that would be drained into some ridiculous scheme.

'Lentis, hear the man out,' snapped the Professor of Light in return. He looked scornfully at the High Professor. 'No man would be so foolish as to come before the High Council with a story like this unless there was truth in it. Master Prade, you may continue. The High Professor of Flight will not interrupt you again.'

Galston Prade nodded thankfully at the Professor of Light. He knew that his old ally was firmly on his side, and would see off the attacks of his enemies – of whom Quove Lentis was most definitely one – to the best of his ability.

'We, along with the fettle-leggers, boarded the hanging baskets and went up onto the Sanctaphrax rock. The city appeared to be intact, but there was no one there. We wandered through the city, until we came to the Great Hall, were finally we met an academic, wearing the Great Seal of Sanctaphrax – identical to the one you are wearing right now, Most High Academe,' he said, pointing at the old medallion the head of Great Glade Academy, Selius Natalis, was wearing. 'He offered to show us the Knights' Academy, and introduced himself as Linius Pallitax. Ambrix seemed to have disappeared; had he been there, we would have known immediately that this was a lie.'

Stegrump Oakbark, the Chief of the woodtrolls, leaned forward, looking at Galston intently.

'Are you saying that you were met by the greatest Most High Academe Sanctaphrax ever had – who died over 500 years ago?' While he maintained a neutral tone, the look of disbelief on his face spoke volumes.

'I am. At least – this is how he appeared. For the many academics and this Linius Pallitax were not what they appeared to be.' He paused again – intent on showing just how serious he was.

'They were gloamglozers. The first was created by Linius Pallitax in the Ancient Laboratory in the stonecomb, and it must have created more since then. They have been feasting on the lost villagers, enticing them with an illusion of Sanctaphrax as old. This also answers your question, High Professor – the rock was indeed infected, crumbling and dying, when the illusion was removed. The city itself was in ruins also.

'But now, the oddest part of my story – how they were beaten. The Professor, with his brother Ifflix – who was alive and hiding in the city – made their way down to the stonecomb and the Ancient Laboratory, where the Professor destroyed the apparatus that had created the gloamglozers. The remaining creatures were destroyed by the appearance of three extraordinary figures, all of whom are known here.'

'Who?' asked the Professor of Darkness, when he appeared to pause. Quove Lentis looked at him askance. From the expression on his face, it looked like he might be persuaded. Bringing Prade down would be difficult.

'Quintinius Verginix, also known as Cloud Wolf. His son, Arborinus Verginix, also known as Twig. And one of our very own, thought long dead – Rook Barkwater, the famous librarian knight and Freeglade Lancer. They were preserved by the Mother Storm and her waters at Riverrise, and their return brought the destruction of the gloamglozers, for, infused with the power of the Mother Storm, they were able to destroy them with lightning at the very tips of their fingers.

'Thus, Sanctaphrax is returned, although destroyed. The gloamglozers are no more, and a true paradise will be set up at the end of the world. This is why I have come in supplication to you,' said Galston Prade quietly. 'This great city still shines out as a beacon of hope to all, but in every city in this great Edge, there are still the downtrodden, the oppressed, and the hungry. On the Sanctaphrax rock, there will truly be a place for them.'

Into the silence that followed this, Cirrus spoke up, nervously. 'I would just like to add that every single word that Master Prade has spoken is true. I have witnessed it all with my own eyes – I stayed aboard the _Archemax _when they entered Sanctaphrax, but I saw the transformation, and the Gloamglozers. So, if you would have a sky pirate's word that he speaks the truth, I offer it freely.'

The High Master of Lake Landing Academy looked over his spectacles at him, smiling slightly. He knew Cirrus from his days as a mere apprentice at the old Academy.

'Master Gladehawk, your word is more than enough for me, as is Galston Prade's. I believe you – I have heard tell of strange events at the end of the world – disappearances, lights in the sky – and this does answer it. Except for one thing – what of stone sickness? You say the rock is diseased, but that stone sickness is no more.'

Galston sighed. He was growing tired of having to relate this story to a bunch of academics, and he had his suspicions that Quove Lentis and his bloc would do anything to stop him getting the news out. It was odd that so much hatred could exist over so small a matter. Nevertheless, he explained to the Council what the Caterbird had told Nate – that with the corruption of life that was the Gloamglozer gone, the healing rain of the Mother Storm had cured the rock of sickness, and how the Stone Gardens were blooming once more.

'Stone flight will be possible once more. But perhaps with our new technology, we can find another use for the stones – similar to stormphrax, maybe we could unlock the secrets of flight rocks. Jus think of the possibilities, sirs. I ask only that you put the word out and sequester some of the phraxfleet for transportation to the new city for those who wish to live there.'

Martilius Vendrix looked round at the Council, noting the differing expressions on their faces – from the beaming smile of the Professor of Light, to the thunderous brow of the High Professor of Flight. It was a shame, he thought, that such an esteemed academic could let personal issues cloud his judgement in this way. He thought he knew how he would vote.

'All in favour of the proposition of the aforementioned supplicants show your assent.' A two-thirds majority vote was needed.

The Professor of Light's hand shot up immediately, followed by the chief of the woodtrolls, the Most High Academe, the Next-Most High Academe, Thorness the leader of the waifs, and the Mayor of New Undertown. It was still not enough. Vendrix thought it over. He knew that his vote would be important in swaying the unconvinced, but he could not help realising that this new city could undermine the economic stability of Great Glade, along with the other settlements.

Galston looked at him as he pondered, and guessed at what he was thinking.

'You have to see the bigger picture, Martilius,' he said, breaking with tradition by addressing him personally. 'Don't be blinkered by monetary issues – a strong Sanctaphrax could make the Edge a truly egalitarian place. Besides, we need a strong workforce to tackle the rocks in the Stone Gardens, if we wish to use them in experiments, or harness their buoyancy once more.'

Vendrix nodded thoughtfully to himself. He could not help thinking of Quove Lentis – he treated all creatures as means to an end, and Vendrix could not think like that. Economic concerns were less important this time. Slowly, he raised his hand. Seven out of thirteen supported the motion – not enough.

But his approval had a ripple effect. The High Professor of Sky Studies and the Dean of the College of Earth-Studies – two of the most senior academics in the Academy – raised their hands, followed by the Captain-General of the Freeglade Lancers, a strong burly man who rarely took part in the discussions. Ten Council members now supported Galston and Cirrus – but it was still not enough.

The silence was deafening in the Chamber. Quove Lentis smiled slightly to himself. The plan was economic madness, shot through with half-truths and blatant mythological fabrication. The Gloamglozer, indeed. The poor belonged in Great Glade, helping to prop up the economy and industry, which relied on them so heavily.

'Oh dear, Master Prade: it looks like you have failed. I for one do not accept your ridiculous tale. It sounds like the ravings of a sick man – for you are, or very recently were, very sick, Master Prade. I suggest you get some rest – you must be distressed after seeing your daughter run off with lowlife from Copperwood. Not fitting behaviour for a woman of her station, is it now?'

Slowly, so slowly, the Professor of Darkness raised his hand, looking steadily at the High Professor, openly disgusted. While he thought many of his ideas were good, he had never been convinced by Lentis' attitude; this outburst merely proved that the High Professor was rotten to the core. Lentis turned to look at the man he had thought to be on his side, and his smirk was replaced by a look of utter contempt. Adaxis Quertus would pay for this.

'Motion passed. Four ships to be made permanently available for transfer of passengers. Two ships to be sent out into the Deepwoods, to Hive and other settlements, to announce this news.'

The future of Sanctaphrax looked bright. Galston could not wait to send a message to Eudoxia. He just needed his trusty ratbird…


	4. NOTICE

**Attention: **As you may have guessed by now, this story is on indefinite hold, due to pressure of schoolwork and exams. Writing is not likely to resume until June 9th, 2009.

EdmundB05


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